


Zombie thoughts

by Butterflyfish



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Thoughts of a zombie, Zombies, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:37:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterflyfish/pseuds/Butterflyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just silliness</p>
<p>What if Zombies were still people in their heads, at least for a while? How would that feel?</p>
<p>A one shot Zombie thought process based at the prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombie thoughts

If I was alive, I think I would be registered blind.

I mean, I can see, sort of, but just shadows. My keenest sense now is my sense of smell. I can smell the dead all around me, and I know they smell me, too. 

Because I am one of them.

I had no idea I would have such lucid thoughts, none at all. I thought, dead was dead, though, and then the dead got back up, so it just shows what I know. 

 

I cling to the prison fence with my brethren. I try to talk, but all that comes are the growls I lived with for so many months in my nightmares. The moans and groans of the dead. 

There is a small person, I think it's a she, who feeds us. It's good to think that someone might have an idea of what we are. I don't blame the living, we were like that once, too, we didn't know. You can't know until you're living it. 

She comes with another rat. It's not as good as living flesh, and not a touch on the giblets of a human victim, but I don't want to eat the people I used to know. I wonder curiously if there is a word like 'Vegetarian' for us Walkers.

Anti cannibal. 

I don't know. 

* * *

 

Another woman comes along with a big pointy stick.

It's got to the point that I beg for the pointy stick.  It's like pop idol "Pick me Pick me" we scream at the top of our lungs, of course, all that comes out is "Rrrrraaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr" but the living ignore our roars. They end the un-lives of as many as they can before they get tired. As many as needs be and no more. They don't want us to break down the fences. I understand, I Was the same. 

 

They don't realise that all we want is a cuddle

* * *

 

Day 17. 

I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be the un-living un-dead creature I have become. I'm flipping starving, and cold, all the time. I Can smell nothing but my own rotting corpse. 

Maybe if we push harder, break in, they'll just take me out, a bullet or knife to the head, and end my suffering, just make it stop. 

We get no respite, we don't sleep. it's a constant moaning, moving, waking nightmare.

 

 


End file.
